HK's fatigued resignation
by synedoche
Summary: What happened to HK 47 between the events of Kotor I and II? A humorous alternative to the canon, wherein Jolee Bindo's wrath is revealed.


On board the center Star map room of the Ebon Hawk:

HK 47: [Fatigued recitation]: I grow weary of debating endlessly these topics of little significance to one so irrevelant as you, meatbag acquaintance number six of my former master's seemingly bottomless pit of pitiful, woefully incompetent and incoherent collection of misfits who have survived despite all odds, to latch like hungry parasites upon my master's generosity, sucking on him as do younglings upon a mother's teat.

Jolee indignantly replies, "Listen you bucket of bolts, there's more at stake in this galaxy than you realize. Call me whatever you want, but understand that Revan is the key to the galaxy's fate. There's got to be someone at his side, to manage his anger and curb his charity. Revan is a balloon full of hot air just waiting to explode. And then who'll step up to the challenge? We've got to somehow follow Revan, there's just too much at stake to let him go off on his own."

HK 47's sarcasm core seems to launch into a frenzy: [sarcastic quip]: Perhaps you, reverent and wise Jedi master of the arcane art of wookie taming and unintelligible rambling, can speak some sense into the Sith masters ready to invade the republic. What if indeed, you are the chosen one, destined to bring peace and balance into the galaxy as foretold nauseatingly countless times in quack prophecies by senile meatbags stroking shiny crystal balls while inebriated on deathsticks?

[insincere admonition]: At the least you would be doing the galaxy a favor by trying such a feat, though I truthfully cannot guarantee that your personal safety would not be compromised in the slightest, as my ethical guidelines do not permit me to omit such minor details as the threat of grave or fatal injury, no matter the amount of personal satisfaction and joyous hilarity potentially resulting from such an omission upon the fate of a meatbag so filled with sloshing inefficiency as one such as you.

[Resentful lament]: Oh curse these blasted circuits! Why must I suffer the indignities of ethical programming!

Jolee lightly threatens, "Yeah that's right, keep ruffling up the senile cuckoo's feathers. You might just see one of these days my proficiency with disassembling and reassembling droids. Don't be too surprised if you wake up one of these days to find a power socket where once there was a vocabulator. Or maybe a water fountain to replace that unshapely head of yours. Ha ha, that's a good one, I've gotta keep track of that idea. Maybe instead of planning all those assassinations you could do some good in the galaxy, quench some people's thirst!

HK 47 retorts: [rising agitation]: I clearly stipulated the terms of our relation to one another, yet the meatbag continues to drone on with his idle boasting and thinly veined threats, apparently oblivious to the innumerable instances I have attempted countless times to explain myself to the self admittedly senile sack of organic semi solids.

[Weary Resignation]: in a final attempt to end this prolonged exchange of words that have likely decreased the total operational lifespan of my motherboard circuits, I shall momentarily shut down to avoid further irritations and unpleasantries spewing from the meatbag like the spittle he inadvertently launches upon all nearby beings and objects unfortunate enough to endure his scrutiny.

[mournful goodbye]: Alas cruel world! I bid farewell and wish this were only a simulation designed to test my patience algorithms! May we never meet again under such non violent circumstances, oh most dreadfully exasperating of meatbags!

[Enticing suggestion]: please do attempt to disassemble me without any protective gear, preferably with your bare hands and mouth, as I promise not to overload any of my circuits and cause a most gratifying stream of electricity to flow directly into the meatbag's extremely conductive, sloshing organs upon the opening of any crevices vital to my safe operation. For that would be a most unfortunate accident indeed!

HK47 begins to shut down as his voice crackles with delight and mischief at the very thought: "Aha..heh..he…he…shutdown complete."

Jolee Bindo looks around to see if anybody is watching. He touches HK 47 tentatively, only to receive a sharp, jabbing electric shock.

"Blasted droid, he's only going to be trouble to us. Even if I try to look for Revan, this droid might just find out and try to contact him. I wonder if…Hey T3! No don't you run away from me, come over here, I've got a problem you just might be able to help me fix!"

Several hours later several vital components of HK's heavily modified skeleton have been removed and set aside by T3. HK now stands completely still, head down and completely silent, near the Star Map room's cupboard.

Jolee cannot resist gloating before going back to his plans to follow Revan: "Hehe, now who gets the last laugh you pile of scrap metal? I think I'll just keep these parts separate for now, maybe once Revan comes back he'll program some respect into you."

Jolee looks one last time at HK's visor and distinctive frame, before pushing on a button to close the door. He locks it securely and heads off to the Ebon Hawk's cockpit.

"Now to see about that crazy woman and the paranoid loner…maybe those two can knock some sense into Revan first."

He enters coordinates to the planet Telos, presumably to meet Bastila and Carth.


End file.
